


Rotten Nightmare

by Joxmarf



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Blood moon, Descent into Madness, Gen, Malice - Freeform, Malice infested Link, Minor Violence, corrupted Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joxmarf/pseuds/Joxmarf
Summary: The blood moon was an emblem of Ganon’s power. Yet, Link could look at it without squinting. He remembered how his eyes had burnt with the light of Zelda’s sacred power. Maybe evil was more accessible, more welcoming. Maybe Hyrule could be tainted by it, even him.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 57





	Rotten Nightmare

The air was dense, an omen of the blood that soon would taint the moon.

Link closed his eyes, the accordion entertaining him with its merry hums. Kass typically played in lone settings, where only the wild (and Link) would tend an ear. _“For whom do you play?”_ Link asked once. _“For everyone,”_ had said the Rito. Did the musician know he was the Hylian Champion? He seemed to know. He hadn’t said anything outwardly, though, and Link wouldn’t ask. That way, sharing the secret felt like something personal. Like something friends did.

_When the moon bleeds and the fiends are reborn,_

_the monks will invite you as they have sworn._

_But first, you must stand on the pedestal bare,_

_with nothing between you and the night air._

A rather poetic way to ask someone to get naked, wasn’t it? So there he was, stripped and freezing, waiting for a shrine to burst from the ground. Most shrine quests bore lessons of courage. Others (a concerning amount) were nonsense.

This one, for example.

Link stood on the pedestal, the midnight air blowing his hair and sending shivers down his spine. Subtly (as all corruption is subtle at first), drops of red stained the sky. The red turned brighter. It illuminated Link’s bare chest, shoulders, and arms. It bathed him in nonexistent blood. It was beautiful, as rotten petals are.

He looked up.

The sky was an emblem of Ganon’s power. Yet, Link could look at it without squinting. He remembered how his eyes had burnt with the light of Zelda’s sacred power. Maybe evil was more accessible, more welcoming. Maybe Hyrule could be tainted by it, even him. Was that the lesson the Sheikah ought to teach him? Was that why he was bare? Before Link could further his reflections, the sound of the bursting shrine distracted him and his thoughts dissipated.

•••••

Akkala citadel looked desolated from afar, a vestige of a forgotten age. Despite it all, there was a regal air to the building, akin to the honour of a noble in poverty.

Up close, however, it was a nightmare. Flying guardians surveyed the sky, malice flooded the place, and soundless voices whispered: _It was all for naught, it was all for naught._

Link fought against the urge to turn back. He climbed, hid, and ran. He shot arrows and they rang true. When he got to the tower, Link climbed the steps with ease. A stray bokoblin, hidden in a corner, tensed his bow and aimed at him. Link did not notice, concentrated on the task at hand. When the arrow was shot, he pathetically thought the swooshing to be a violent current.

It dug on his shoulder. Link winced in pain and let go. There were no thoughts in sudden death, and so Link thought nothing.

He sunk into an abyss of malice. Sticky goo clung to his body, scorching. He opened his mouth to scream, but the substance flooded his mouth and his lungs and everything that was _him_.

Link felt it turn his insides and suck the marrow of his soul. It touched and twisted the core of him. It gnawed… _something_ …

Link clenched his jaw and tried to swim out of the pool of malice, away from the searing pain that overloaded his senses and turned his thoughts into mush. _Away_ , his mind screeched.

“It is my pleasure,” Mipha’s voice pulled him from the darkness. Her voice was barely a whisper, gone as fast as it came. Link caught a glimpse of her face, her serene expression replaced with one of concern. Before Link could do anything, she disappeared and left him alone with the vague sensation of being a coal that _burned._

•••••

Link woke with a start, a ghost of a scream trembling in his throat. He squinted, attempting to see anything in the darkness. He couldn’t make out a thing, not even the palm he rose in front of his face.

It reminded him of a different darkness, one in which he had slumbered for a lifetime. His heart raced. He could see nothing. He could see _nothing._

However, he should have, as he had lighted up a fire before daring to doze off. Link touched the ashy remains, a frown creasing his forehead. There was no wind nor rain. He had slept for an hour or less, but just barely, for indescribable nightmares plagued his dreams. With these factors factors considered, all signs told Link that the flames should still be burning. Yet here it was, right in front of him, cold and bare. Unless… someone had quenched it?

Link shook his head, discarding the thought. _Nonsense_. He was just tired and his mind was reeling with paranoia.

Yet, why was his heart pounding hard against his chest? Why was he tense, waiting for _something_ to jump from the shadows and _something_ to slide his throat? Link licked his lips in anticipation, reaching for a rusty dagger he had picked (taken) from… somewhere, someone? He didn’t remember.

Shaky fingers clutched the hilt, as he trusted his instincts to keep him alive. If he had woken so abruptly, there must be a reason. Link got up, wielding the weapon. Frantic eyes glanced around, looking for… for _what?_ There was silence, definite, infinite, and he grew more anxious with every second that ticked.

A shiver crept up his spine, and then he saw it. A lump, a shadow, a _thing_. It was still, menacing, waiting to strike. Link approached it slowly, the only noise reberating on his eardrums his shallow breathing. The lump did not move. Raw panic turned into kinetic energy as Link thrust himself into the beast’s back and stabbed, stabbed, _stabbed_. It needed to be properly dead. Only then would he be safe.

He thrust the knife a last time, clenching his jaw. A pained, faraway scream escaped from the thing before it relaxed under his grip. Link jacked the knife down its spine, just in case.

_It’s over, it’s over._

Link closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. Sweat drenched his hair and ran rivers down his neck. Trembling hands grabbed the corpse and turned it over. He recognised the face of a boy with glassy blue eyes. It stared back at him with a dead, accusing expression. Link paled.

His face; the corpse had his face.

He let go, falling on his back and using his elbows to get away. He crashed violently against a tree trunk and buried his face in his hands. Minutes or hours could have passed until he dared to look. The corpse was gone. Only the knife remained, unstained even though Link could still smell the blood.

There had been no monster.

It had all been in his head.

He was alone.

A scream cut the air. Link scrambled to his feet, confused. That… hadn’t he imagined that too?

He followed the noise.

•••••

Her vocal chords strained, scream after scream. Goddesses, what was she going to do? Granted, she had been starving _and_ the man had promised her stew and mead, so of course she had stayed. Who in their right mind wouldn’t?

Unfortunately, shortly after eating, the man had grabbed her arm and nasty, greasy fingers had dragged her to the heart of the woods.

His nails dug into her skin deeper every time she yelled. She felt discouraged, for she had only accomplished to scare the wildlife and spark the man’s rage. Not that she cared about the last part. She wasn’t going to make this _easy_ to him.

The girl was too busy thinking how to break his kneecaps that she didn’t notice him stop. She stumbled.

“What?” she spat. He replied nothing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. She followed his vision.

_Oh._

Meters away from them was a person, unnervingly still. She could barely make the contour of the figure; she could barely stand to look at it. Something oozed from them, something eerie and hollow and dreadful that made her want to hide. Yet, her eyes were glued to them, possessed by morbid curiosity. Her breath hitched.

“Let’s go,” she whispered. She feared the man gripping her arm, but the stranger _terrified_ her.

The man scoffed. He was no coward.

“Can’t you see we in the middle of something?” he groaned at the stranger.

Clouds unveiled the moon and light dripped through the forest canopy. The stranger was a boy with shaky hands and wild hair. His face bore cuts that shone a dim scarlet and the girl swore there was something moving underneath the tissue. She shivered. He was ill, no doubt.

“Someone… screamed… I thought you... ” he babbled, breathing heavily.

The man waved his hand as to discard his words. “Nothing’s happening, pal. Just my friend and I taking a walk—“

“Liar! Scoundrel!” the girl said. She turned to look at the boy, “Help!”

It was a long shot he would be able to do anything, but she was hopeful. He had listened to her call for help, after all.

The man guffawed. “What? Do you think this— this _freak_ will help? He can barely stand!”

“You could be kinder,” said the boy, voice hoarse.

The man laughed again. It echoed through the woods.

The boy looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, blazing with animalistic red fury. His lips quivered silent words that didn’t reach their ears, but they were muttered with a mania that made the man recoil. He was _scared_.

To Link, the man’s laugh was deafening. Like insects buzzing, screeching: a hammer against his skull. His blood boiled. He wanted it gone. It would be gone.

Next thing he knew, he was bashing the man’s face with his fists. Link did not stop pounding his knuckles against cracking bone.

He snarled, eyes burning and anger pulsing in his veins.

“Goddess,” whimpered the girl. She covered her face and fled.

Her voice brought Link back to reality. He looked down at what he had done. The man’s skull was misshapen, smashed. Link had managed to rip an eyeball from its socket. The head was laying in a pool of blood. Link could taste it in his mouth.

“I didn’t mean… I’m not…” Link said, shaking. He dragged himself away from the corpse, scared. What had he done?

There was a monster.

 _He_ was the monster.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in English, so comments are very much appreciated. Thanks for reading! <3
> 
> Inspired by this amazing art on tumblr: https://st-hedge.tumblr.com/post/624443635433422848/ive-been-thinking-about-how-there-are-probably.
> 
> I don't think I nailed the vibes, but the result was interesting nonetheless!


End file.
